A Beautiful Mistake
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: More S4 speculation. Richard and Isobel make a mistake.
1. Chapter 1

**Just more, very fanciful, S4 speculation. I'm really very nervous about this one.**

"Richard. Oh, Richard!"

Her head fell back as her hips rolled into his over and over again. Her breathing was deep, ragged and uncontrolled, close to his ear and then far away again as they moved; the most desperately erotic distancing and nearing that he had ever heard. His hands were in her hair, falling loose down her back, and the tips of his fingers kept briefly touching her back as their bodies undulated back and forth. Bowing his head he lavished kisses on her collarbone and breasts, dipping his tongue as she rose against him, riding him frantically, to lick her nipples.

"Richard! Oh, God!"

That was enough, it seemed, to send her over the edge. Her body stiffened against his and she shook violently, making a sound, the most glorious sound he thought he'd ever heard, that was a mixture of a moan and a cry. His hands left her hair, holding tightly onto her back, hugging her to him, keeping her close, as he continued to thrust his hips up and into her. He seized her gasping lips in one last kiss before he came to, falling backwards onto the bed and pulling her with him.

They lay their together, both panting and quivering from their powerful release, their bodies pushed blissfully, tortuously close together. He continued to hold onto her, he could not let go, he didn't even want his body to leave hers. They lay there for as long as they could, still intimately joined. At last, she heaved a heavy sigh and rolled gently away from him. He let out a sigh of disappointment as her weight left his chest, but a second later she was back at his side, curling up against him rather gingerly. He put his arms around her shoulder, telling her that it was alright. Resting her head on his chest she let out a deep, deep sigh.

"We shouldn't have done that."

One of them had to say it, he supposed, and it might as well have been her. His hand tightened a fraction on her shoulder but he did not let go. He exhaled deeply.

"No," he agreed, "You're probably right."

Her hand held onto the bedsheet, pulling it up over them, and they both caught sight of the diamond glittering away on her ring finger; winking at them, almost, it knew their secret. It held both their eyes for long moments before she let her hand relax, and still, after that, it felt a long time before either of them could speak again.

"Will you tell him?" he asked at last, "Lord Merton?"

"I don't see that there's any reason to," she replied, a little curtly.

"He's your fiancé," he reminded her, unnecessarily.

"I know," she replied with the sharpness he had anticipated and supposed he deserved, "Richard, if you were engaged and your fiancée... made a mistake, you'd be better off not knowing, in the long run. Don't you agree?"

He did not say anything.

"It only happened once," she stated, calmly, rationally, "And it's not going to happen again. It was a mistake," she repeated, "It was only a mistake."

He felt her move beside him and he loosened his arm around her so that she could sit up. She sat and hugged her arm around her knees, bent up against her chest. He stared at her naked back, the smooth curve of her spine, the beautiful silk of her skin. He knew he shouldn't say it, he shouldn't say anything at all, they would both be better off if he remained silent, but for a moment he did not care in the least.

"But it was such a beautiful mistake," he told her softly.

He heard her let out a ragged breath, a harsh sigh. For a moment she did not move, just stayed sitting up, facing away from him. But then, silently, she lay back down, into the curve under his arm that she had left vacant, resting her head gently back on his chest and kissing his skin softly, chastely with the lips. Her eyes were closed.

"Richard," she murmured, her voice sounding strained, "Richard."

A second later he was taken aback, when he felt the cold touch of tears against his skin. He clasped her shoulder tightly.

"I have to go back to him," her voice choked a little as she said it, "I-... I have to. Do you understand?"

There was a long pause.

"Yes," he said finally, pushing against a reluctance in his throat, "Yes, I do."

Bowing his head, he planted a kiss in her hair, breathing in its scent.

"I understand that you do, Isobel, but I don't understand why."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I really really hope this is ok. **

"Richard," she murmured, her tears abating a little, "Please. Don't do this."

"Isobel," he replied, his heart heavy in his chest, "I'm sorry, but I can't-... Why? Why do you have to go back to him?"

Quickly, she withdrew from him, sitting up again, leaning forwards and burying her face in her hands and her knees.

"Do you love him?" he asked her, sitting up as much as he could, watching as her back trembled.

"Yes," came her muffled reply.

"Do you?"

No reply this time.

There was a long pause.

"Darling-..."

"Don't," she told him, sharply, "Please, Richard, please don't."

"Why do you have to go back to him?" he asked again, his voice growing firmer.

She did not answer.

"Does he love you?" he wanted to know, "Does he even know you, Isobel?"

Normally he would not dare to ask her a question like that. For twelve years he had not dared to ask her a question like that. But now was not the time to remain silent.

"Richard," she told him, raising her head from her knees but not turning to look at him, "The things you're asking me-... You don't know-..." she broke off, "I've promised him," she stated firmly, "I promised I'd marry him."

He ignored her.

"I know you," he pressed, "I know that this isn't what you want, you don't want to marry him. I love you, Isobel. I know you're not-... You don't slip up, Isobel," he stated firmly, talking to her back, "You never slip up. You love fiercely and with such devotion. You don't waver and that's one of the things I love about you the most. If you loved Lord Merton you wouldn't have looked twice at me. You're so-... single-minded. You're so passionate. You're so-... you're so damned passionate, Isobel," his voice trembled as he said it, recalling images of what they'd just done: the tension between them finally, finally breaking and her grabbing his shirtfront practically pushing him up against the wall downstairs; them falling back onto her bed together; her scrambling to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt; their lips locked together in passionate, passionate kisses, "Alright, so you say what we just did was a mistake," he forced his voice to remain calm and steady, "Just look me in the face and tell me it didn't mean anything to you."

She had her face buried in her hand, and she was sobbing. Her tears made him physically hurt, but his heart burned inside of him as well at her coldness, her refusal to admit.

"Richard," she said weakly, "You don't know what you mean to me. You can't-... But I have to marry him. I owe it to him."

"No," he murmured.

"He was so kind after Matthew died."

"You don't," he insisted, "You don't owe yourself to anyone. You don't owe yourself to Lord Merton and you certainly don't owe yourself to me. But I love you, Isobel, and I want you, and I would spend the rest of my life trying to let you know that. I would spend every day of my life trying to make you happy. Has he ever said that to you?"

She sat, frozen.

"Has he?" he demanded.

"No!" she told him, still not looking at him, "No, he hasn't."

"Isobel," he murmured, gently, "I don't know if I can let go after this. You were-... You were so wonderful. You are unbelievably beautiful. Isobel, I'm begging you. Don't make me live without you now, Isobel," his voice finally broke, "Don't."

She still sat, looking away from him. He could not speak, he thought he would cry if he did. Shuffling forwards a little, he laid a tentative hand on her hip. She tensed a little under his touch, but she did not stop him. Slowly, sitting up a little, he moved behind her, placing a single kiss at the top of her spine.

"Just stop me," he whispered to her, "If you want to. Just stop me."

He placed a row of timid, tender kisses down her spine, his hand still resting on her hip. He was as gentle as he could be, trying to imprint his love on her with every touch of his lips, willing her just to see. He reached the base of her spine. Her back arched gently in pleasure as he touched her, and as he sat back up, he moved his hand gently to cover her breast. He heard her let out a gasp.

"I'd make love to you every day," he whispered in her ear, rising to his knees behind her, "I'd make love to you for the rest of my life," he kissed her ear, kissed her neck; his hands covering both of her breasts now, massaging them. She moaned and leant back against him, "Do you know how beautiful you are, Isobel, when you make love? Do you? Has he ever told you that?"

"No," she murmured quietly in reply, between ragged breaths, "He wouldn't know-..."

The thought gave him a thrill of delight, and of relief. He leaned over a little, saw that her eyes wear closed. He kissed her brow and her temple, still touching one of her breasts, his other hand moving down over her stomach.

"Marry me instead," he whispered, his hand tangling in her curls, "Marry me, Isobel. I love you."

Her head fell back against his shoulder as her sank a finger inside her, her mouth parted in a silent moan. He kissed her lips, sinking his finger inside her again.

"Yes, Richard," she moaned, so quietly that he could barely hear her.

His heart almost stopped, almost exploded in his chest.

"Yes, what?" he asked breathlessly, overtaken by surprise.

"I'll marry you," she gasped, "I love you, just-..." he was kissing her suddenly, kissing her all over, adoring her with his mouth, thanking her, lavishing her, still moving his fingers inside her, worshipping her in the only way he could, "Don't stop, Richard, darling, I love you, make love to me properly, Richard, YES!" she exclaimed her hips jerking and rutting against his fingers as he touched her, "Oh God, Richard!"

He held her as she gave a cry and shook against him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him, lying her down beside him and burying his face against her skin, unable to believe what she had just said.

But as her breathing slowed, she said it again, slowly, her voice shaking with the enormous significance of every word.

"Richard, darling. I love you. I'll marry you."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all your reviews so far, I really hope you like this final chapter. **

They lay still together for a long time, her hand resting in the middle of his chest. Her breathing was still a little laboured, and he felt her chest contact closely with his as she recovered.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her at last, gently, not meaning to sound accusing but still curious all the same, "Why did you say you'd marry him if you love me, Isobel?"

She was quiet for a little while, frowning a little as she thought. Her hand shifted and she moved her head to rest on his chest too.

"Because I didn't want to hurt him," she decided finally, "We did become good friends after Matthew died, and I didn't want to seem ungrateful for all he'd done."

"Weren't we good friends when I asked you to marry me before?" he wanted to know.

""Richard," she murmured gently, sitting up a little so she could look at him, an earnest and pained expression in her eyes,"You didn't actually ask me before."

"You stopped me before I could," he reminded her.

She let out a sigh, sitting up properly now, leaning back against the headboard, pulling the sheet with her a little to cover her breasts. He gently arrested her hand before she could do so properly, and she smiled at him, indulging him, allowing him to look up at her admiringly.

"I'm not trying to reproach you," he told her after a moment, "I just want to know that you're sure."

"Richard," she murmured, "Of course I'm sure. I cared about you too much to let you ask," she told him gently, resting her hand on his head, letting her fingers wrap into his hair, "I knew exactly what you were about to do; it was written all over your face, never mind what you said. Richard, then I wasn't in mind to marry anyone. With Lord Merton, he-... he took me completely by surprise for a start," she explained, "I wanted to go away and think about it, but even that seemed to hurt him, he was impatient for an answer, though he was too polite to say it. I panicked, I suppose."

"And did you think about breaking it off afterwards?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied after a moment, and then, "Every day. Every time I saw you."

"Isobel," he murmured gently, reaching his hand out, resting it gently on her leg, "Why didn't you say?"

"Isn't that what I just did?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow, "I've-... made you aware of my feelings. In one way or another."

He chuckled quietly.

"That's one way of putting it," he remarked.

"And things were so different after Matthew died," she added, looking down at her hands, resting in her lap, "I saw my life differently. I was adrift, really. I began to thing getting married might not be such a terrible change."

Wrapping his arm around her hips, he leant his cheek against her thigh, nestling against her warm skin.

"Why didn't you come to me then, my darling?" he asked her.

"I didn't know how to," she replied softly, her hand resting again in his hair, "I didn't know if that was what you would still want. You didn't let me know," she reminded him, her voice very quiet.

"I was afraid of saying the wrong thing," he told her, "You seemed so broken. I couldn't bear the thought that I could have hurt you more than you were."

"Richard," she murmured, bending down, planting a kiss on his temple, "You darling darling man."

He opened his eyes, looking straight up into hers. She bit her lip gently.

"I've been so stupid," she whispered, "I've behaved very badly towards a lot of people; to Lord Merton. To you. I've behaved very selfishly."

Richard shook his head.

"You haven't," he told her in reply.

"I have," she insisted, closing her eyes for a second before they flicked open, staring into his with the compassion he was so used to seeing in her, but stretched to the point of violence, "I can tell. I hurt you. I hurt you very badly, or you never would have-... We wouldn't be here now. Forgive me?" she asked gently.

He sighed softly, touching her face with his hand. His mind was full of the times his heart had been filled with bitterness, every time he saw her from a distance with Lord Merton, how the news that they were engaged had nearly knocked him to the ground. How he had longed to touch her like this then, just like this, chastely, just touch her face and tell her everything was going to be alright.

"You were adrift," he told her, repeating her words from earlier, "You were broken. There's nothing to forgive. Really."

Her eyes fell shut, and she nuzzled into his palm, as if it were her own, burying her face in his skin.

"I love you," he felt the gentle vibration of her voice on the heel of his hand, "I love you so much, Richard."

She kissed his palm, his fingers.

"Hold on a moment," she told him a second later.

She turned a fraction away from him, fiddling with her hands under the bedclothes.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she replied, holding something out to show him.

She had taken her engagement ring off.

"Oh," Richard could not think of what to say, "I see." 

She rolled away gently and put it on the bedside table.

"I'll give it back to him when I see him," she told him, returning fully to his side, "I'll have to explain to him properly. Tell him I'm sorry."

He nodded.

"Yes," he agreed.

She rested her hands and arms around his neck, pulling their bodies close together. And then;

"Let me buy you one?"

"An engagement ring?"

"Yes." 

She looked at him carefully.

"You can if you like," she told him, "I don't need one. All I want is a wedding ring," she continued quietly when he did not say anything, "Your wedding ring. Oh yes," she added, a smile quirking her mouth and lighting up her features in a way he found truly glorious, "And I want you to kiss me, Richard. Make love to me."

He pressed his face to hers with the precise intention of doing just that.

**End.**

**Please review if you have the time.**


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